


Drip Drip Drop

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Series: Of Sex, Ink, and Skateboards [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: (as in mentions of pot smoking), Alternate Universe - High School, Aromantic Character, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Crushes, Double Penetration, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, Frottage, Locus your crush is showing, M/M, Narcotics, Pansexual Character, Parties, Piercings, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Dancing, Tattoos, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Drinking, Wash on a skateboard, Well its Sex in a Bathtub, Yearbooks, chapter two is fluffy, well the Maine/Wash pairing is past and only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breath catching, back arching—panting, gut clenching. Naked chests sliding together the water from the shower pooling in the dips in the freckled boy’s muscles, slicking—sliding. The smaller teen thumped his head against the wall, a moan building in his throat. Crotches pressing, grinding together—clothed in soaking jeans and uncomfortable boxers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drip

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm ShadowSheyla on Tumblr](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/)
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> I have an exam tomorrow and I need to go back to studying. Will return to catch/fix more of my horrid spelling. Shhh, writing is keeping me sane~~

Breath catching, back arching—panting, gut clenching. Naked chests sliding together the water from the shower pooling in the dips in the freckled boy’s muscles, slicking—sliding. The smaller teen thumped his head against the wall, a moan building in his throat. Crotches pressing, grinding together—clothed in soaking jeans and uncomfortable boxers.

\--

David Washington.

There was always something about the younger teen that just drove Locus insane—was it his appearance? Was it the gray-blue eyes? The freckles? Was it the head of wheat blond hair? Was it the athletic figure?

Was it his crooked grin that pulled the right corner of his mouth up higher than the left? Was it the dumb gray and yellow beanie he’d wear around school? Was it the skateboarding in the halls and yelling at his friends to watch him jump these set of stairs?

Was it that damn indent on his left cheek—a scar from some tumble? Was it the scar on his brow? Was it how he would bite at the corner of his lips? Or was it how he’d swoop the G in Washington with added flair? Was it the dumb bright curly straws that he’d pull out of his worn and tattered backpack and stick in every drink he had?

Was it how he’d turn around in English and ask to borrow his black sharpie then proceed to spend the rest of class colouring his nails in?

Was it back in tenth grade when Wash got hit by that car? Was it when he was dared to jump off the school roof and ended up breaking both wrists?

\--

Teeth pulling on skin, sucking marks into flesh as coloured in nails claws grooves up the darker boy’s back. Belts unbuckling—more grinding, more groaning. Kisses, tongue—wet, open. So much panting. The water was cool against his heated back.

Head swimming; so much drinking, he couldn’t believe he had the blond under him. He pawed at their pants, pushing down on dripping cloth until their erections ground together. He moaned so sweet—like music. The darker boy wanted more, so much more. He didn’t want it to end; pushing forwards again and again.

The blond moaned, pressing their mouths together and swiping his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His pale hands gripping at everything—at his shoulders, his back, his ass, his face, pulling at his dripping loose hair.

He hadn’t even noticed his hair coming undone—so focused on the teen under him. Nothing mattered—not the party going on around him, or the people coming and going out of the bathroom, not the fact that one thoughtful person had though to draw the shower curtain to give them a slight semblance of privacy.

\--

He hated being called David; “it’s either Wash or Washington,” he’d always tell Locus. At first he was mad, annoyed. Locus _loved it_. He loved the look in his eyes and the crinkle in his nose. This had been back in ninth grade—gym. David hadn’t filled in yet, still short and slightly baby faced.

Locus thought he was adorable.

All gangly limbs, freckles, braces, too big ears, and scruffy blond hair.

It was a riot watching him try to coordinate himself into playing basketball. He’d trip and stumble, but grin the embarrassment off. Felix would laugh and tease the smaller boy—nudging his shoulder and knocking into him purposely in the halls at every chance he got.

He didn’t have very many friends that year—Locus remembers seeing him around maybe one other kid that whole year... before he was adopted into the theater club the last month of school.

That last month he wore cat shirts and random theater kids would stuff big dramatic hats on the poor blond.

Felix loved every damn moment of it—Locus, Locus was just confused.

\--

His lips were moving against the taller boy's, no sound escaping other than choked off breaths. His eyes clenching, back bowing—he was coming. He was coming with his eyes pinched shut, mouth hung open and a hand gripping painfully at his long hair.

\--

When tenth grade started Locus didn’t know what to think of David Washington—Felix’s was the one who would always be able to explain the change of David E. Washington from ninth grade to tenth better than Locus ever could.

“Holy shit Washington got HOT!”

And that he did.

His face slimmed out over the summer and his ears stopped looking in-proportionate to the rest of his head, the freckles were there—there were more in fact. They dusted down the back of his neck and down his arms, on his legs and even on his fingers.

Felix and Locus remained with their group of friends—the sinners, the smokers, the mid-night tokers, the rebels, the haters. The kids that ended up with tattoos and piercings—the kids that lingered in the middle-high area of being one of the cool kids without being on top of the school so-called hierarchy. The kids that had the nasty reputations and who’d get called down to the office over the intercom weekly (read: daily).

In tenth grade David Washington ended up befriending a bunch of seniors and ended up dating a football player—a senior named Maine. Locus wanted to kill him, wanted nothing more than to see that relationship fail and go up into flames.

And for once, Felix was the one that kept _him_ from doing anything stupid. “Wait it out, he’s graduating in a few months.” And that’s what Locus did. He waited and hung out.

He held pleasant conversations with the blond and worked with him on dumb pointless class assignments that they were forced to do.

Locus went to parties and got drunk. He had sex and got high. He and Felix roamed the streets and night with some of their boys and dared each other to do stupid shit.

\--

He clenched his eyes shut and moaned, gut clenching and seed spilling. His lips found the other boy’s, kissing and licking into his mouth. Humming when he felt arms encircle his shoulders and held him against the freckled teen.

They should return to the party—or at least get out of this bathtub. Maybe grab a few more drinks and head back to one of their places.

Tongues slid against each other lazily; slow and gentle. Heads tilting, finding better positions for more contact—for a better press and slide. They hummed, enjoying the feeling.

\--

Felix was right—for once.

David Washington and Maine did break up.

He didn’t seem broken up by it, and when questioned by Felix one night while both were drunk at a party the blond said that if they were both single after Wash graduated then they’d continue. David didn’t want the elder teen to get in any problems because of his age and that was the main reason for their separation.

All Locus cared about was the word Single. Single with a capital S, maybe a little bolded and underlined.

David Washington was single again and that meant Felix couldn’t laugh wickedly at the fact that Locus would beat off to the thought of David anymore. The other male now settled with a waggle of his brow and a very obvious hint towards the matter of David and Locus’ fantasies of the blond.

The Eleventh grade saw to the permanent sight of a skateboard either under David’s foot or in his hand. The blond would bounce between sitting with Locus and Felix and a kid named Tucker and his group of friends at lunch.

David tended to sit with Tucker and his crew the days that he had classes with Locus before and after lunch—Locus was more than okay with this. Felix liked to take that time when they’d move to the smoking pit and light a cig to tell the taller male that he was preening—and that it was creeping him out a bit.

And by a bit he meant a lot.

Locus would grin and steal the remainder of his cigarette.

Eleventh grade was when Locus and Felix both turned up to school with five new piercings and a bunch of new tattoos on one Monday morning. Felix loved the attention, he’d stick his newly pierced tongue out to anyone and everyone—Wash got the tongue between forefinger and middle and the added sound effect.  

The blond laughed, cheeks colouring.

Locus would catch him staring—he’d stare at the studs in his lips, and then watch the silver ball at the end of Locus’ tongue piercing lick over his lips. David would nibble at the corner of his lip, zoned out before catching himself. He’d blush and pointedly look away after that.

\--

They tucked themselves back into their pants and patted the jeans down with a cloth to the best of their abilities—there was a pool in the backyard that people were diving into in full clothes so it wasn’t like they’d be out of place. The freckled teen licked a track up the other male’s neck, “we should go get some more drinks.”

They had lost their shirts somewhere—somewhere not in the bathroom—and neither feeling even a hint of shyness. The tattooed teen grinned down at the other, “then go make out by the pool?”

The blond’s hands trailed up his sides, over the markings over his ribs to the bars through his nipples—he brushed over them and the taller teen hissed. “Duh!”

\--

There was three months left of school and some freshman cheerleader was throwing a party—something about wanting to make sure to up her popularity so she’d be head come next year.

Locus didn’t care, he was graduating in three months and he was done beating around the bush.

Come this party he was going to get with David.

So when Felix and he had arrived, the party was already in full swing. David had sent him texts and pictures a few minutes ago proving that he was at this event already (something about showing up with Tucker and his group).

When Locus found him he’s already started drinking. The blond grinned at him, handing him his full cup and whispered, “here drink some of mine” in his ear. And that’s what Locus did—it was strong and tasted like too much booze and not enough chaser. But Wash never really did use much of anything to mix or chase down the taste of booze.

Locus and David shared that cup, filling it up twice more.

Their hands running up the other’s side, pulling, dragging. Grinding along to the music and noses bumping, breath mingling. They swayed and ground and danced together for who knows how long.

They danced until they started kissing—at first just a press of lips. A press of lips not quite registering—lingering, pressing, _staying_. And then there was a tilt and it was no longer just a press; it was a moulding of lips together and opening and tongues and teeth. Hands grabbing and pulling at clothes, sneaking up and under—sliding against sweat slicked skin.

They pulled away, “bedroom?”

David nodded.

...They didn’t make it far enough to bedroom and settled for a bathroom instead. It got real handsy real fast—their shirts gone and neither remembered losing them nor could they remember falling into the bathtub but they remembered the _feeling_ of falling into it—and the water pouring over them.

\--

Locus wakes in a room that wasn’t his—in a bed that wasn’t his. He shifts and the body next to his groans, shifting back to mould into his side. He peeks a pine green eye open and sees a head of wheat blond hair pillowed on his shoulder.

Locus groans, wrapping his arms tighter around the blond and takes in the room. He spots a familiar beanie thrown over the bedside lampshade and the familiar board propped against the wall by the teen’s door. His room is messy, clothes thrown everywhere and Locus couldn’t help but chuckle.

Yeah, he went home with David Washington alright.


	2. Drip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school eventually ends. It ends with stuffy clothes in the fancy variety, yearbooks, and a dance (and a kiss).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to add smut to this but nahhh! I wanted the fluff so enjoy the fluff you, Locington animals~ <3 
> 
> I'm thinking about the next (and most likely last) chapter. Off to University/College anyone? :D Who wants to see the Freelancer crew? (I do, I do~)

Prom was a ridiculous moment of the majority of a high school experience. A night to dress up in some stuffy clothes, pay an insane amount of money, and just look pretty. And as much as Locus hated the thought of the occasion he still dressed up in some deep green dress shirt and black tux.

He had a date—a date and a tag along to be exact.

Felix had been the first to bring it up—yearbook pictures, last hurrah, and well... David Washington. And then the blond had brought it up the day tickets started selling—he was going even if he was going stag. But the blond wasn’t going stag anymore, no he had a _date_.

\--

Every year book would open to some nonsense about the school motto and logo—possibly even the mascot. Then there’d be the teachers page, maybe some comment about the year written from one of them. Then there’d be the students.

The ninth graders; pictures of them in rows like some pictures lining the hall outside of the office. The tenth and eleventh grade classes were the same. Just pictures of smiling faces and names under each one.

Flipping to the graduating class. The graduating class had something different—they had a picture in their graduation robes and then a random picture of them that was bigger. A blurb of something or another written beside the collection of photos.

On each page there was a grouping of three graduating students.

Flipping through the pages, the male stopped at the first person of any importance to him.

**Felix Andrada**

He looked ridiculous with the black eyeliner and those bright neon orange piercing studs on his face. The graduation robe black with a red, white, and gold sash. His tooth hooking at the corner of his pulled tight lip—it’s done that since those adult teeth grew in. Felix hated it. Hated it almost as much as the fact that he wore orange coloured contacts (prescription) because he couldn’t see far away and his eyes were a dark brown. Like a _dark_ brown—if he was to have brown eyes he wanted to be able to see the different flecks of brown hue, not just... quote and quote “coffee like sludge”.

Washington couldn’t see it—neither could anyone else for that matter (Locus couldn’t and he’s grown up with the guy since pre-school. But he wasn’t about to pay the guy a compliment out of the goodness of his heart. Their friendship just wasn’t like that). Washington was the one who had drunkenly stared into Felix eyes and waxed a verse of pure poetry about them—they were like the warm of freshly ground coffee beans, or the sharp taste of dark chocolate for the very first time. In the light they’d brighten, swirled with milk chocolate and _warmth_.

Wash was very poetic—very _romantic_ while intoxicated at times. Felix had been left stuttering and flushing for a good hour after. He had turned to Locus after he was finally able to catch himself and said, “I think I might be having a sexuality crisis now.” Locus wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by it—the guy was Aromantic and was openly attracted to all genders. (Locus didn’t ask for clarification, he assumed that it might just be the _Washington Effect_ )

The bigger picture was of him in a leather vest—bright orange tank top peaking out under the leather and where the zipper wasn’t fully done up, the tattoos wrapping around both arms proudly on display as he flexed on top of _their_ lunch table. He had an unlit fag between his lips and his foot firmly cemented on Wash’s board—he had stolen it from him, along with the blond’s signature gray and yellow beanie. It covered his freshly re-shaven hair in intricate designs—the mohawk never spiked and the bleached tips blond and long.

He had a love for the dramatics.

_Voted Most Likely To: ‘stab someone in the neck because he can’_

**Felix** : I want to just start with saying that everyone can just go suck d*ck (really guys censoring this in the yearbook? C’mon now I know for a fact that some of these most likely voted things has sexual stuff thrown in. I’m onto you a**holes. OH COME ON STOP THAT!). I was actually go to pretend to say something meaningful but now you’ve gone and censored the d*ck (did it again) so now I’m just going to say one last thing... ready? F-U-C-K YOU, YOU P-R-I-C-K-S! CAN’T CENSOR THAT! SUCK IT!

**Locus Reyes**

It was the longest his hair had ever been and half of his head was shaved. Dark brown hair cascading down the right side of his head, the tips of the longest strands resting on his shoulders. Both Washington and Felix liked his hair like this, they’d walk past and mess up the wavy strands and grin at the glare—Locus liked still being able to tie it back, even though it was awkward with the half-shaven head. His lips pulled up in the smallest of smiles—he didn’t like being told when to smile and for how long. He didn’t smile often to begin with so why would he do so while being _commanded_?

The bigger picture was with both Felix and Wash. It was a nice picture; the lighting soft (maybe a filter was thrown in there as well, no one could tell anymore) and subtle as he stared at Washington. A lit cigarette between his lips, smoke curling up in the wind captured—blowing at both Felix and Locus’ hair as they watched Wash explain something with his hands.

Locus’ leather, patch and button decorated jacket thrown over Washington’s shoulders. He had a black band t-shirt on—the name of the band not visible in the picture. Locus was the black space between two bright flares of colour—the rich blue of the sky, the yellow-gray-blue of the boy to his right, and the orange-red-yellow-black-gray of the boy to his left.

It was fitting—them using this picture. Locus didn’t really care much about expressing his own individuality. Thought it was pointless. He did what he wanted for the most time—stuck to Felix’s side because he simply wished to, and Wash... Wash was well... he was Washington.

 _Washington Effect_ , right?

_Voted Most Likely To: ‘have a crush on someone and never telling the person even though the sexual tension is being felt by everyone in the room and everyone is aware of the mutual attraction’ (also honorable mention of being most likely to: ‘have sex in the shower at a party where people could see and walk in on’)_

**Locus:** Excuse me while I murder Felix.

**David Washington**

“ ** _The Creator of The Washington Effect:_**

_The Washington Effect is when one isn’t aware just how attractive they are. This individual is typically sweet, a little (or a lot) dorky, HELLA cute, yet even while sassy they can woo the most frigid of individuals.”_

PROM KING

His graduation photo was just like everyone else. He had the black robe on and the sash—the lightning, the backdrop, the positioning... all the same. Like the just copied and pasted a new face on and called it a day. But his smile. Washington’s smile was swoon worthy; a little crooked—one side did lift higher than the other and his teeth were whiter than normal. He had recently chipped another tooth and they had to do a heavy cleaning—you couldn’t tell unless you were told. His gray-blue eyes sparkling in the light, the corners crinkling.

Wash didn’t need to fake a smile for pictures; it was like the word _smile_ would trigger it. No matter what—Wash smile you just survived getting hit by a car, Washington smile you just jumped off the roof of the school (for a second time) and into the back of a moving pickup truck and didn’t die or break a single bone!

And his freckles. His freckles were everywhere, even more so in the warmer weather and he’d bath the sunlight in like a cat. He’d lay out on the picnic benches while Felix and Locus would have a smoke, or he’d lay in the grass with his board under his head. In the graduation photo the dent in his cheek—to the left just a half an inch off from his lips—where he fell into something sharp while doing some trick.

Washington’s second picture was The One from Prom—the royalty dance thing. That typical dance where the King and Queen would either dance with each other or go dance with their date. Yeah, it was _That Picture_.

_Voted Most Likely To: ‘gain a following without their knowledge and respect and appreciate the things these fans do for them’_

**Wash:** I don’t get it when a bunch of people come up to me and say they like me. Is it like... like like, or that they like me ‘cause I’m an alright guy? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it but thanks. I mean, I’m not popular (I don’t think?) and I didn’t even talk to the vast majority of you guys/girls. But... um, thanks and it was fun. Glad my skateboarding and willingness to case myself bodily harm got some good laughs and memories out of it. Take care and good luck—D. Washington.

\--

The picture was stupid; Locus wasn’t originally big on the idea of posing for pictures—didn’t know how they’d do it with the three of them—but both Felix and Washington wanted it, and Locus wasn’t about to say no to the boyfriend.

 _The Boyfriend_ , yeah Locus was still testing that word out against his tongue. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe how great it rolled off.

The picture went just about as well as Locus expected with Felix as a best friend and technically two dates who were strung out on too much energy last at night. The flash went off to Locus’ face pulled into a grimace—not at the fact the Wash had jumped into his arms and laid a wet smacking kiss against his cheek. No, the grimace was all for Felix. He had licked a _huge_ line up his face—from jaw to forehead.

The yearbook committee better not put that picture in the yearbook (they did).

\--

**THE SHIPPING PAGE!**

A page all about the predictions on who would get together that year, why they think, pictures of the couple accompanying these comments and if they did or did not get together. The Shipping Page was in fact a spread of two pages—it was already a lie.

LOCUS & D. WASHINGTON

It was a picture taken on a phone camera of the pair in one of their shared classes. From the distance and position in the room it was obviously Felix—it was _always_ Felix.

Wash has facing the teen behind him, the back of the chair between his legs—leaning forward. He had been tired that day, only sleeping at most two hours. He was looking up at Locus through his eyelashes, and that crooked grin present and accounted for. And Locus... Locus’ face looked _soft_. The angles of his face not seeming as sharp as the barest of smiles pulled at him.

Reason: you weren’t there during the Washington/Maine relationship. It was (and is) the most embarrassing moment of Locus’ life! I had to hold him back from jealousy more than once when those two would get their mack on in the hallways. Ahh, it was one of the best moments of my life!

Couple? Yes.

\--

They danced, they were idiots (read: Wash and Felix were idiots), the couple made out a bit. Wash would drag both of them and make rounds to other people. The blond would stop and chat, get some pictures taken and continue on his way.

“I don’t even know that person,” he’d tell Locus and Felix sometimes, brows drawn tight in confusion at the last seven or so minutes of conversations and pictures he’s had with that person.

“It’s the freckles and smile,” Locus would always reply. And just at the word smile Wash’s lips would pull up in what could only be described as a confused grin that Locus would point at for Felix—he’d laugh even after the third or fourth time. The obliviousness of Wash’s _adorkableness_ would always be laughable.

When the music dimmed and the lights on stage brightened the crowd grew silent. Felix chuckled under his breath and pointed to a group of girls in the middle of the crowd, their heads bobbing in excitement as they bounced in place. “Ahh the great adventures of Prom Royalty,” he turned and rolled his orange eyes at Locus. Locus shook his head back.

Locus didn’t care much about the whole social standings in high school; that was something that Felix was in charge of (and interested in). So when the names were beginning to be called up and the potential Prom Kings were going up to the stage and Locus couldn’t for the life of him remember their faces before now. “David Washington!” the girl on stage called and the blond at Locus’ side jolted.

“What?” the white boy stared at Felix like it was _his fault_ that his name was called.

Felix threw his arms out, “I didn’t rig shit!”

And with that David Washington slowly made his way through the crowd and up on stage. Felix jabbed his boney elbow between Locus’ ribs and began to explain the situation as the potential Prom Queens were called up to join the guys on stage. “So, three out of those five guys are up there because it’s almost mandatory for their place in popularity—or something. At this point it doesn’t matter if they win anymore they just needed to be _nominated_.”

Locus watched the guys on stage converse with Wash; the blond stared at them with a confused tilt of his head and his mouth gapping—stuttering over words that Locus had no hope of hearing.

“Wash and whatever the kid’s name is—Caboose maybe? Was that his name?— are up there because either someone rigged it or people love them. But... knowing our Wash it’s most likely the second opinion.”

Prom was confusing—all about social interactions and keeping things pleasant. Like a game of chess that without any meaningful victory spoils. Just some title of royalty for this event and a plastic looking crown, “this is ridiculous.”

“You’re telling—” David Washington was just crowned Prom King and he was flustered, “—looks like you’re dating royalty now.” The grin on Felix’s face was absolutely devilish.

\--

David’s face was everywhere in the yearbook.

He was in the theatre club picture; an honorary member of it. The tester of costumes and a member of the audience when they’d run improv clubs.

There was a picture of him jumping off the school roof for the second time. He had lost his board in mid-fall, mouth open to curse profanities. Tucker and Caboose clad in blue sweaters in the photo as they watched on. Wash had done it for fifty bucks—beer money was his explanation later—and Tucker had to pay up.

He was in the hallways of photos skating by on his board, sometimes he was with either Locus or Felix (or both).

\--

Washington was blushing when he took Locus’ hand and the elder teen spun him before gathering him in his arms. “Nothing too fancy,” is what the blond whispered eyes peeking up shyly through his lashes up at him. Locus had taken dance classes—his older sister (and legal guardian) was a dance instructor and Locus was her favourite student.

“Don’t wish to show up our peers now?” Locus smirked down at his partner. The crown sitting slightly crooked on his styled blond locks—he looked good, but Locus was biased. _David_ always looked good to him—even back in ninth grade and he hadn’t grown into himself yet.

The steps were simple; Locus walked forward and David trusted him to lead. It was slow—slower than anything that Locus had danced to for a long time. David would lean forwards for a kiss but quickly blush under the stares and halt his action.

The song was reaching its closing and Locus didn’t think twice before pulling away from his partner, spinning in one sharp fluid motion before catching him and dipping him low. “Show off!” a voice sounding suspiciously like Felix called from the crowd. Locus couldn’t care—didn’t care. He sealed their lips together in the most cliché of ways and David _swooned_. Body turning to putty under his hands as the blond wrapped his arms around Locus’ neck and kissed him back.

\--

That moment captured in flashes of light as cameras went off. The Picture was that moment when Wash kissed Locus back.


	3. Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How much sex can one blond really have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to let it sit for a couple of hours before i come back to this to go over and edit it (fully). 
> 
> Also, as a bonus chapter do you want me to write a foursome? If so please tell me. Because if not this chapter is the end ;)
> 
> EDIT [MAY 9TH]: had to change Locus' age to nearly nineteen. I kept wanting to make him nineteen but still in the same age group as them in school so I stuffed his birthday in December and was like "this part is in fucking September, he's not fucking nineteen yet why the hell does it say nineteen?!" so just a small change, he's still technically a year older than both Felix and Washington.

High School was finished. It was done—over. Summer was quick, like a blink of drinking and smoking, sex and ink. It was filled with an endless amount freckled skin, the pasty white skin colouring and freckling under the heat and sun—the kisses and hands running over the flesh showed to not harm this development.

It was enjoyable—very much so.

With the drinking, the smoking, the skateboarding and the sex—like a film reel that was stuck on that one spot in the movie. But knowing Felix that would continue even with the new semester incoming; it would continue on the days off between classes, projects and studying.

And Locus wasn’t even thinking about David Washington in this—no, the blond would be a constant as well. Even though he was moving into a house with his friends from high school—the friends that were two years older than him. Maine was living there too, and Locus would be lying if he said a flare of jealousy did not spike.

Locus and Felix got a small apartment just off campus, the duo have known each other since childhood—their family homes were five doors down from each other. Hell, up until two weeks before that party where Locus and Washington finally got together the two were casually sleeping together.

Felix didn’t _do_ relationships—sure at times he liked the idea of them but he couldn’t feel romantic attraction. He felt an attachment to Locus; he was familiar, comfortable—he liked that about Locus, it’s why he always went back. He more than respected Locus’ wish to be with Wash—the guy was _hot_ , and Felix more than wanted to tap that. Plus, if he was Locus he would totally call dibs on the blond. It was only the smart thing to do.

\--

Wash brought his face down to his own, teeth pulling at his lip. His breath smelt of liquor and mint—he was chewing gum twenty minutes ago. “You know where Felix went?” his naked chest pressed Locus’. Sweat soaked skin sliding against each other; Locus palmed Wash’s ass, pulling the other teen flush against him.

There was always at least seven bush parties every summer; the field just a ways into the woods out of the north side of the city perfect for teenagers who wanted to be as loud as possible during their free time. They’d drive up in their cars, some would bring blankets, a lot of people would bring tents and set up a campsite around the tree line and away from the main party, people would bring cases of beer and another assortment of booze (and water, lots of water), and they’d set up a stereo running of a generator (never underestimate teenagers and their will of partying). The party would start close to sunset, when the summer heat would pass from a point of death and into a more comfortable temperature that still was questionable towards heatstroke.

“He’s making out with a girl by one of the kegs,” Locus grabbed a handful of blond hair—it was always longer on top—and pulled the teen’s head back to lick a long swipe up his neck. One of the girls in the group closest to the couple turned and threw them a cheeky grin when Wash let out a loud and unembarrassed moan.

“Let’s go back to your car then?”

Locus’ nostrils flared and he bit at the naked shoulder in front of him sucking a dark mark into the skin. “Y—” his voice caught, “yeah let’s go.”

He’d never get tired of the fact that _he_ was _dating **David Washington**_ **.**

That he wanted him—he’d nip and pull at Locus’ earlobe, whispering the things that Wash wanted Locus to do to him when they got away from everyone. He would text him late at night, calling him with a deep tone already coating his voice and a moan on his lips as he begged Locus to _talk to him_.

They’ve already had sex three times in Locus’ car before this party. Three times this summer and the summer wasn’t even half over.

The first time was after Felix decided to catch a ride with one of their buddies after spending the day smoking pot and skateboarding. Wash had pulled open the back door and sat, gesturing for Locus to come closer with _that look_ —Wash had a number of different looks when it came to sex—and as soon as Locus was within arm’s reach Wash had said “I want you to fuck my face” and Locus wasn’t about to deny either one of them that experience.

The second time was in the dead of night, Locus had asked his blond to leave the house and just go for a drive with him. He hadn’t been thinking about sex when he was driving with the blond at his side, he just wanted to spend more time with him—he didn’t want to _stop_ spending time with him. And well, when he found a decent place to just park and sit some place out of the city they just talked. They talked—Wash talked mostly—and then the talking led to kissing and the kissing led to Wash’s cock in his mouth and two of his fingers buried in Wash’s asshole.

The third time was at Felix’s family summer home. They had gone up there for week and Wash was dragged up with both Felix and Locus. Locus _always_ went down every time Felix did (which would be another two times this summer) and this time Wash didn’t turn the invite down (last year Wash’s sister was down with her baby and he was chained to the house/city until she left). The couple escaped one night just to catch a breather without anyone else—just a moment to themselves... also without having to worry if someone (Felix’s family, Felix didn’t matter they had sex in the bed beside his like it was nothing) overheard.

They fucked; Wash pocketed the lube and Locus grabbed the condom. The backseat wasn’t the most comfortable of places—even more uncomfortable than the bathtub. The prep work was quick, to the point—the windows got steamy and the car rocked as Wash rode his cock like a champion. His head knocking against the roof and both he and Locus chuckled (after Wash cursed out the cramped space).

This time—the fourth time—was much the same as the third. It was cramped, and the prep work was quick and to the point. Locus buried three fingers into Wash’s ass as he groaned and arched his back. His blond head hitting the window with the movement—the drag of his hand on Wash’s dick and his fingers pressing in, unraveling him. The blond was a _cock slut_ , a horrible—delicious cock whore who liked being pampered and taken care of. He was an even more demanding lover than Felix—and _that’s_ certainly a feat that demanded some form of praise.

“Locus—fuck Locus, Locus just get in me.” Sweat dipped in the creases of his stomach, how he was bent and Locus swallowed the saliva gathering in his mouth. He removed his hands from the teen’s body—he whined, an uncontrolled action dispite the fact that he was the one that demanded that this happen—pushing his pants and boxers just low enough to spring his cock out. He groped around for the box of condoms that Felix had chucked back here and huffed when he finally found the open box and tore of package from the strip.

One of the best things about having Felix as a best friend was the fact that he’d toss condom boxes at Locus at random times. Chilling out in Wash’s house? Box of condoms to the face. In the basement of Felix’s house? Box of condoms to the face. In Locus’ bedroom? Three boxes of condoms to the face.

Wash moaned—in rang out in the car, off the windows—as Locus pushed in, pulling Wash against him at the same time. Car sex was horrible, a constant struggle to get it _right_. To fuck like they wanted while not injuring the other people too badly in the process. And Locus was _tall_ , he was all muscle and height and so was Washington.

One of his legs over Locus’ shoulders and the other pushed up and open—the pace was face and unrelenting. Neither wanted it pretty or romantic, that’ll come after when they weren’t cramped in the back of Locus’ car and Wash’s body wasn’t bent in an unbelievable position with his bottom lip between his teeth. Locus bottomed out, pushing as far as possible. “C’mon David, let’s hear those screams over the music.”

He started his brutal pace anew.

Balls slapping, nails digging into the back of his neck and hands pulling at his hair—this would be when Wash would take a bite out of his neck and work the flesh between teeth and tongue and sucks. He _loved_ it when Wash got rough, when he’d push back and kiss with teeth and tongue.

A hand slapped against the roof of the car and the door behind Locus opened, “having sex and not inviting me?”

Felix. Always Felix.

Locus continued, a grunt—a groan—at his lips and the taste of sweat and David Washington on his tongue. Wash cried out, pulled at Locus’ long hair and groaning loud and long. Wash’s marker coloured nails dragged down his back, grooves appearing in the flesh in their wake.

“Hey Felix,” Wash’s head thumped back against the window and he moaned again.

“Aww, see Wash is always the _nice one_ in this relationship.” Locus snarled—Wash’s breath caught in his throat and his toes curled. He pushed back against him, hand smacking the glass behind his head as he used that to leverage himself—to spear himself further on Locus’ dick.

“Right there, oh god right there baby,” the white boy moaned, pinched and coming out in a whine near the end as his back bowed and his arm strained—pushing, slipping, catching and pushing again. “Locus, Locus—fuck yes yes _ss_!”

Felix’s chuckle rumbled in his throat—he was turned on by this and Locus couldn’t help but grin into his blond’s neck, plowing into him all the quicker—all the deeper. “Just grabbing some condoms,” Locus could hear him liking his lips, rooting through the shit on the floor of the car before finding the box. The teen smacked Locus’ ass with a, “you have fun boys!”

Wash groaned, “make—ah! Fuck!—smart choices!” the blond grinned, all proud and just oozing with a sense of accomplishment and pride—he was patronizing him. Fuck Locus loved this guy, loved him more than anything else.

Wash didn’t last much longer after Felix slammed the door close, and shortly after Wash Locus tipped into the blissful heaven of release.

\--

Wash’s friends stare at them openly when Felix and Locus first visit Wash three days after he’s moved in with the third years. “So there’s a party this weekend,” Felix is saying shortly after Wash hands Felix a bottle of water and Wash is staring at the slightly shorter male with a mixture of amazement and shock.

“How do you find these things?” The white boy questions as he slips an arm around Locus and gives him a half-assed hug.

His friends are watching them from the couch or the open layout of their kitchen-dining room. Locus doesn’t get why his feeling shy _now_ , they’ve had sex in public places—people have walked in on them!—and Wash had never seemed to care.

Felix tilted his head at the lack of open affection but didn’t question it, “Don’t question my ways David.” The purr in his voice tinting Wash’s cheeks a pink hue. “So, are you going to actually invite us up or are you just going admire me? ‘Cause if so let me show you the good—”

Wash nudged the shorter male with a roll of his eyes but nodded to the stairs, “I haven’t exactly finished unpacking but okay.”

\--

The water was great, refreshing—a welcome break from the heat.

A bunch of the ‘kids’ snuck away to the beach shortly after the sun began to set—a group of fourteen teenagers ranging from the ages of sixteen to nineteen. They wanted to just get away from the families, maybe for some adulterated fun or maybe just for a breather that came with being around people closer to your own age.

Wash didn’t care either way, he just wanted a swim. The first time he tagged along with Felix and Locus to Felix’s family cottage (summer home?) he had wanted nothing more than to just relax in the surf. He had done that—some times. And now that they was the second trip up to the teen’s summer house Wash wanted to repeat the experience; the water really was just that enjoyable after hours of being in the heat.

The surf licked up his legs; up his legs and lingered around his waist before slowly crawling back. Locus collapsed in the sand beside him, fingers around the neck of a beer bottle and breath already smelling like booze. That was one thing about going with Felix’s parents—they bought them booze and didn’t think anything of them drinking.

 _Better now than when they’re off at college and no one cares,_ and yeah. Wash has heard from his friends that the first few months of post secondary could get kinda scary with all the freedom and possibilities. People would be throwing a lot of parties and Wash may want to go to them—all of them, but he _shouldn’t_.

That was another reason why he was doing everything now—getting as drunk as he can, having as much sex as possible with Locus. Just hanging out with Felix and Locus and Tucker (who was hard to reach this summer with his family dragging him off for some road trip, and then his sister taking him camping)—he knew that it would be a challenge to spend as much time together as they did now, so he was going to over stimulate himself with the constant presence of these two until the point he was sick of them.

He didn’t think it would work, but it was worth a shot anyways.

Wash felt lips on his cheek and fingers brushing against the back of his neck, “doing alright?”

Wash nodded, turning into the teen at his side and pressing their lips together in a quick kiss. “Yeah, just enjoying the peace right now. Water’s comfortable.”

Locus hummed, kissing the blond again and again and again in a series of short pecks.

\--

Felix left sometime around eleven, leaving Locus half asleep on Wash’s bed. His back bare as he lay there between the waking world and being lulled into a slumber that he wouldn't have experienced in _far too long_. While Wash’s bed wasn’t as comfortable as his it did have something that his didn’t have—the overpowering smell of David Washington.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Wash’s body pressed close against Locus’ side. His fingers tracing the bumps and grooves of his spine, “that wasn’t fair. It’s just... awkward. They didn’t even know I was dating someone; I thought I told them before I moved in but I guess not.”

Locus shifted, elbows cracking as he pushed himself up then falling back to the bed. His pine green eyes open and understanding as he allowed Wash to continue on now with Locus’ complete attention. “I’m used to everyone already knowing, and... well, Maine.”

Locus felt the flair of jealousy—oh, yeah it was still there alright. _Shit_. He pushed himself back up to his elbows to look down at the blond; he needed to be able to see _everything_. “Do you still like him?”

Wash’s eyes dropped from his face, his gaze settling at the new tattoo near Locus’ collarbone. “I—“ he sighed, “I love **_you_** , but the whole thing with Maine and I was confusing. It was never really a break up but more of a... I don’t know, pause? A pause that was still an end?” Locus was still caught up on the fact that David Washington (the David Washington) said that he loved him. “It’s just awkward that’s all. I haven’t really seen these guys for years; I’m just trying to find my footing again—bring two important things together, y’know?”

He cought Locus’ gaze and smiled shyly up at him. Locus licked his lips, gut still flopping at the whole _I love you_ and now the _important_ —Locus was important to him and if someone told him that a year ago he’d hold their head in a used toilet. “I want you to fuck me,” he said.

Wash stared, mouth opening and closing—“I... yeah. Yeah, okay.” This wasn’t the first time David would have fucked Locus and it wouldn’t be the last. It wasn’t common; Locus had a love for being on top and Wash had a love for his dick—and what he could do with that cock.

Locus pushed himself off the bed, unbuckling his belt and finally stepping out of his pants, underwear and socks.

Wash was pushing off the last of his own clothes—he grinned when he caught Locus staring, eyes roaming over the freckles and the sun kissed skin (no longer pale with all that time they’ve spend shirtless and in the sun during the summer), green eyed gaze stopping at the large tattoo wrapped around Wash ribs. It looked the gray and yellow Halo armor, skin tearing away to show the armor underneath. The blond had gotten in during the summer after much prompting from both Locus and Felix (Felix more than Locus)—they were working on piercings next. Felix was mentioning nipple piercings for the blond and that peaked both Locus and Wash attention.

“How do you want this?” Wash asked standing from the bed and wrapping his arms around Locus’ torso. He kissed the inked skin of his collarbone—over the ink, the bone, and finally trailing love bits up to column of his neck.

“With you doing all the work,” Locus smirked—Wash rolled his eyes, yes of course Locus was going to say that. When relinquished control he soaked up the love and attention; something about payback for all the times that Wash was being a tease (or was it a piece of shit? Wash couldn’t really remember).

“Oh my god just lay down on your stomach.”

Locus chuckled breaking away from his embrace and returning to his spot of the bed. He tucked the pillow under his chin, holding the fluffy objects in his arms. He settled in, legs open and body un-tensing. He could hear Wash search through his dresser for the things he’d need.

He closed his eyes and waited. Waited until he felt lips and teeth and his shoulder blades, hands pressing—sliding up his sides. Locus hummed. The fingers pressed in, digging into the skin—into the flesh and muscles, working the knots. They moved up, up the ridges and dips in his spine. Thumbs pressing and soothing, working at the flesh as Locus hissed.

Lips and teeth pressing, pulling, traveling. “You’re beautiful,” his fingers dug into his shoulder blades, finding knots that have long bothered Locus, “so incredibly stunning. Have I ever told you that, love?”

And there was that roll in his gut, that flutter of his heart.

“All angular features—I fucking love your nose, you know? It’s such a stupid thing to say but I love it. And those lips, even without those rings through them. Full and _kissable_ —” David had no difficulty going on _and on_ about what he found attractive about the other male. He hardly had the opportunity to do so though; Locus didn’t like the sappy praise that would spill from his lips he’d much rather kiss away his breath than hear how handsome Washington found him.

Locus groaned, fingers pressing and working the knots out of his back—traveling upwards now to his neck and shoulders.

“You have freckles, y’know? Your skin is almost dark enough to hide them but if you look close enough you have a small cluster on your shoulders and the bridge of your nose.” He was kissing Locus’ back again, hands pressing and sliding down to kneed at the flesh of his ass. “I understand why you’re so fascinated with mine now—they’re cute.” The cap of the lube popped open and Locus sucked in with a hiss at the cool feeling.

“Oh hush,” Wash replied, nipping at the bigger male’s shoulder and spread his cheeks. The finger slid in without hesitation, meeting not resistance from Locus—he sighed, closing his eyes and settled in. The finger was joined by another and Wash pressed in, twisting and dragging them out again only to repeat the motion.

Locus spread his legs wider, feeling the bed dip as Wash fully settled in behind him. “I want to try something,” the blond spoke up and Locus nodded, whatever it would be he didn’t care—he just wanted the attention, he wanted everything. Fingers left him and the bed shifted again, hands palms and Locus’ ass—that’s when he felt the swipe of tongue at his hole and his throat rumbled.

“Fucking hell David,” he hissed when a finger joined in with the teasing swipe of tongue. The blond moaned his reply and Locus groaned back—the blond crooked his fingers, pumping in and out, adding a second then a third as his tongue continued to press in and flick and just _drag_ against his heated flesh.

He nipped and sucked marks onto the male’s ass cheeks; pumping and scissoring and crooking his fingers—until... until nothing. Wash pulled back and Locus panted, teeth grinding together as he threw a look back at the white boy over his shoulder and through his long brown hair.

Wash was rolling a condom down over his prick and Locus grinned; that is a reason he could accept.

Wash pawed at his waist, angling his hips up to meet him as he slowly pressed in—sliding in with all the lube and spit and prep. David groaned low and deep, it rumbled in his throat as he bottomed out into the heat. His freckled forehead knocking against Locus’ shoulders—he started a slow pace.

A horribly slow pace—teasing both males as they rocked against each other.

It was slow, so slow and torturous as they slid together, grinding. “Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” He panted in Locus’ ear; he was stretching—pushing in deep—to brush his lips against Locus’ ear. Locus growled, pushing back against David’s prick. Wash groaned, “Fucking gorgeous. Thought so since the day I first met you.”

He was starting to break that slow and steady rhythm—finally, finally they were getting somewhere.

“Like a deep forest green—emerald? Fuck, it’s hard to tell—” he was having difficulties sprouting his praise and romantic endearments. His hips pistoning—in and out, in and out—as sweat drenched forehead whipping against Locus’ shoulders. Locus should grab hold of his own cock, fisting himself to completion. But he was comfortable and enjoying the feeling of David Washington unraveling behind him.

“Ah!” David hissed, his hips jerked—slowing. “Locus, shit. Fucking hell. Fuck I love you.” He slowly pulled out, rolling the condom from his spent prick and tossed the used rubber into the garbage.

And that’s when Locus finally moved; man handling David until he was pressed against the bed and Locus was kneeling above him with cock in hand. He hissed, taking in the sight of his boyfriend under him  as he quickly brought himself to completion.

Cum spurting out, dripping onto the freckled flesh beneath him—over his chest and stomach. Locus smirked rubbing a hand over the cum and smearing it around on the white boy’s flesh. “That’s for calling my eyes pretty.”

\--

First party of their college experience; Felix was drunk, Washington was drunk, and Locus... well Locus was on his way. The blond sandwiched between the two pierced males—the eighteen year old and the (nearly) nineteen year old (shit Locus was getting old)—bodies swaying in the music and under the effects of the alcohol.

“I’ve been thinking,” Felix leaned in close, lips brushing against Wash’s and Locus stared on curiously. Wash glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye— _this okay_.

Locus nodded.

Felix wasn’t interested in any form of romantic attachment with Wash—they had this conversation, Felix has brought up the question of a threesome between the three of them multiple times. He had never pushed; more curious then anything. Felix had an attachment to Wash—a strange curiosity. It started with Locus’ crush, then only grew when the blond started hanging around them more throughout high school.

It didn’t help that Wash had a habit of being the only person to make Felix swoon. The honest knees weak and cheeks reddening kind of swoon. If Locus wasn’t already aware of Felix aromantic pansexuality he would question if he found the blond romantically stimulating.

And maybe he did—maybe Felix was gray-romantic.

Felix and Locus had shared almost everything growing up—since they were children. They shared their friends, their food, their families, even shared their bodies—using the other for sexual exploration (Washington was aware of this. Both Locus and Felix informed him of this just in case he wasn’t _completely_ sure).

Locus didn’t mind sharing David Washington—not completely anyways.

Felix would preen under the affection that Wash would give him; he’d take to it better than Locus ever could.

Felix pressed his lips to Wash’s—Locus could hear them both moan into the touch. He could see them both open their mouths to the other, the flick and slide of tongues pressing. Locus pulled Felix closer—crotches pressed, grinding together, as Locus crowded forward. Nipping at Wash’s ear lobe—pulling, working the flesh with teeth and tongue and suction.

Felix broke away and grinned at the two males in front of him, “so.” His voice dipped, purring as his rolled his neck and shoulders. “Down for a threesome?”

Wash glanced up and back at Locus and Locus raised a brow back at his boyfriend. A grin broke over Wash’s lips when Locus rolled his eyes.

Felix grinned back.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

\--

They had thought about going back to Wash’s place but his roommates were having company over and Wash wanted to be _loud_. And who were they to deny the blond that possibility?

The front door of their apartment slammed open and then quickly shut as Felix crowded Wash against the wall opposite the door. “My bed’s bigger,” Locus kissed up the back of Felix’s neck. Sucking a mark into the flesh right behind his ear.

They had already shed Washington of his shirt in the elevator ride up to their floor—Locus currently had the garment thrown over one of his shoulders. The tallest male guided them from the entryway, down the hall and into his bedroom.

“So, blondy-locks, how am I going to get a piece of you?” Felix purred finally pulling away to begin the process of shedding his clothes in the fastest way possible. Locus reached around Wash to tug his belt from around his waist before pulling at baggy shorts and undergarments—they pooled around his ankles. The freckled male leaned back heavily against his significant other, hands reaching blindly—with a practiced ease—to fondle at his pants, pushing and pulling until gravity did the rest.

Felix stood bare; a roll of his neck, a lick of his lips as he watched Locus’ hands sweep up the flesh of their blond. _Their blond_. A note, deep—throaty—rumbled in Washington’s throat as his lips pulled up into a grin.

Felix understood now what Locus meant when he said that Wash was starting to mimic his grins. It looked good—it looked hot, _dangerous_ —pulling at the corners of his lips.

“I want the both of you to fuck me.”

Felix gaped, “as in like...” his mind going straight to the extreme—something he’s never even _done_. “Like double penetration?” He threw a glance up at Locus who glanced between both males in front of him with a curious look.

Wash stalked forward, a sureness in his step that made Felix’s loin stir. His fingers ghosting up, up from his navel and over the tattoos decorating his chest. The blond’s lips touching, teasing, Felix’s jaw—“Nervous?” He nipped, pulled—gray-blue eyes twinkling with a familiar look than tugged at Felix.

Felix swallowed, he saw that look every day in the mirror when he’d grin and preen—practicing his faces before leaving the house. The blond truly was spending too much time with them—Felix _loved it_.

“Oh you have no idea how _long_ I’ve been waiting to try this,” Felix replied. Behind Wash Locus was stripping out of the remainder of his clothes and gathering the necessary products to continue their sexy fun times. “Hey Locus, I dibs the front—I wanna see what pretty faces we can get outta him.”

Locus huffed, a chuckle escaping. “He bites,” he warned stepping back into place behind the blond, the cap of the lube popped open and Wash shivered—he turned, throwing a glance over his shoulder and Locus leaned forward to press a quick reassuring kiss to his lips.

Felix ran his hands up and down the blond’s sides, “ooh that means it’s going to be _fun_.” He slowly sank to his knees, hands following as lips and tongue traced over every line and dip and freckle towards the hard cock surrounded by darker blond pubes. “Remember to moan all pretty, blondie, I’m going to swallow you whole.”

Wash ran a hand through the unstyled Mohawk, cupping face and locking eye contact as Felix did just that. He parted his lips, tongue pressing against the slit—hallowing his cheeks as he sank, pushing more and more _and more_ of Washington into his mouth, down his throat. Locus sunk two slick fingers into him—Wash buckled, head thrown back and a loud “Oh fuck!” rolling off his tongue.

Felix bobbed, “lick the head and fondle his balls,” Locus chimed in, kissing up the blond’s tense neck. Felix hummed, heeding the suggestion and Washington groaned gripping at Felix’s jaw and Locus’ hip.

“You son of a bitch,” he hissed as another finger entered, pushing—scissoring, dragging along his sensitive walls. Locus huffed flicking at his nipple and Wash cursed again, hips making pitiful aborted thrusts between the mouth around his dick and the fingers buried in his ass. “I hate you both—fucking hell,” his mouth dropped open eyes pinching shut as Locus’ added a forth finger and _twisted_ —pushing. The blond whined; loud and long and pitiful.

“You’re doing so good baby. So fucking good,” Locus purred, rolling his ear between teeth and tongue. “You’re so fucking hot, so _fucking hot_ ,” he continued and Wash soaked the praise in, pushing his hips back and forth until his breath caught and he shouted his release—head thrown back, chest heaving as Felix swallowed. He swallowed everything; licking his lips and kissing his way back open Wash’s chest.

He licked up and over his Adam’s apple, lathering the sweaty skin with an added sheen, the silver ball of his tongue ring catching the light. “You taste _good_ Wash; Locus has some great taste,” he winked those fake orange eyes at his childhood friend. “What a taste Lo?”

Locus leaned forward taking the offered kiss. It was familiar, kissing Felix always was. They’ve been doing this since they were kids—the slow drag of tongues against each other, the knock of teeth, the jut of chin. There was a press of lips against his chin, then his cheek—Locus turned into the press and an extra tongue mingled in the wet slide of muscles and spit.

“So needy~”

Locus pulled out and away from both males, he grabbed the foil package on the bed and tossed it to Felix before grabbing his own. Wash’s gray-blue eyed gaze jumped between one male to the other. “Move up near the headboard,” Wash nodded towards Locus and the elder teen made a mountain of pillows behind his back before settling in. The clear rubber rolled down over his length and the male beacons him over with a flick of his wrists and Wash moves wordlessly.

He turns with Locus’ hands guiding him—Felix watching with a glint in his eyes and a lick of his lips—the head of his cock presses in and Wash sighs. He sighs as he sinks down the length and back against the man behind him. Wash feels hands cupping his face and a pair of lips pressing and sliding against his—he opens, the ball of the piercing digging into his tongue and clicking against the back of his teeth. “We’re gonna make you feel so good,” Felix purred against his lips, hands sliding down—down over his sensitive nipples, down over his stomach and finally down to join Locus’ hands around his waist.

Wash felt the press—sucking in a breath—the pull at the ring of muscles as he slid in. “Taking it like a champ,” Felix panted against the blond’s lips. Wash opened his eyes, moaning as Felix just kept _pushing_ —in and in _and just further in_. “Look at that face,” he purred pecking at the corner of his lips.

Locus tilted his head back over his shoulder, neck bared in a sign of submission as he began to lather kisses up the white flesh. A moan pushing up through his throat as both dicks inside him began to slide out and back into him with shallow thrust.

Locus’ solid—large, heavy—hands guiding him along with the movement. Wash’s breath caught, Felix snapped his hips forward and Locus hissed out a moan in his ear. “You feel fucking _fantastic_ David,” Felix’s mouth was still running, brushing against his red and swollen ones. “Hey Locus, think he could handle a faster pace?”

Locus snorted, biting at his blond’s ear and pulled. “I think he’ll _love it_ , right David?” And with that Locus’ grip on his hips tightened and the pace quickened.

With three males rocking in similar but _just_ out of sync cycles everything was _so much_. Wash gripped, pawing at skin and hair—pulling, biting, _moaning_. He moaned so loudly his voice cracked and he cursed and arched and _screamed_. He could feel fingers digging, nails biting into his skin. Felix’s voice purring in his ears, “look at those lovely faces—baby you’re drooling.” He’d lick into his mouth and a hook his tongue behind Wash’s teeth—tickling the top of his mouth.

Wash sucked at the muscle, wrapped his mouth around it and _sucked_ —bobbing his head, once twice trice, before his mouth fell back open and a loud keening pinched up—rolling up from his gut, lungs and throat. “Harder, c’mon—” he begged and pleaded and Locus pulled at his hair pulling his head back _so fucking far_. It hurt, it hurt so fucking good and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes back into his head and moan all the louder.

“Ah—” he couldn’t say anything else, broken off syllables and moans catching as both Felix and Locus pounded into him. His breath caught—stopped; he saw nothing. Nothing—maybe he closed his eyes, maybe he passed out. All he could feel was the pleasure melting over, he was spilling—falling.

He could feel movement and hear rumbles of voices in his ears and against his skin.

“David!” he heard the call of his name and his eyes opened to Felix slumped over and Locus massaging the back of his neck. The room filled with panting, nothing but three males trying to catch their breath.

Felix grinned rolling back into Locus’ bed, “that was fucking great.”

Wash hummed, he felt... well, he couldn’t feel his limbs. “I think I passed out,” he admitted and Locus huffed his laughter into his ear. Felix’s grin only grew.


End file.
